Page 38 of Forgive Me, Father

The private jet sliced through the afternoon like a blade through silk, but the calm around me was a lie.A luxury.The kind of silence that made monsters think.

Polished mahogany glinted under the soft cabin lights.Leather seats wrapped around me like a noose, suffocating in their perfection.The cabin was spacious, but I felt boxed in.Trapped.

I sat with my laptop open on the small conference table, fingers stiff over the keyboard as the Deluca case glared back at me.I was supposed to prepare, to focus.Instead, my thoughts spiraled, tangled in Camilla’s voice, her stare, the way she looked at me last night like I was both the storm and the shelter.

I knew what my temper meant.What my legacy came with.What it cost?

They called me the White Rabbit like it was a stroke of luck.But it was madness wrapped in a suit, control balanced on a blade's edge.They didn’t know what I had to do, what I still did, to keep the chaos inside from eating me alive.

I wrecked my mind trying to figure out how to tell her.How to make this thing between us real?Camilla deserved better than shadows, but I wasn’t sure I could be anything else.

The screen blurred for a second.I blinked hard and exhaled, dragging a hand down my face.One more hour till landing.

The plane touched down, wheels kissing the tarmac with a jolt that pulled me back into the present.I stepped out into the open, and the air hit me—thick with sun, dust, and memory.Italy.No matter how long I was gone, this place would always be home.

Not always in a comforting way.Sometimes, home was just where your ghosts knew where to find you.

This was where I was raised.Where I learned what it meant to carry a name like ours.Where I became the man I am—for better or worse.

A buzz in my pocket pulled me out of my head.Sarah.Just her name on the screen made something twist in my chest.I had to get my demons in check.

I stared at the message for a second longer than I should’ve, then slid the phone back into my coat.

* * *

The blood seeped from the thin cuts just below Sarah’s breast.It was one of many marks I’d left on her body.She flinched.

She was a goddess, gagged, collared, her wrists bound in shackles, legs held open by a spreader bar.She thirst the pain just as deeply as my darkness craved giving it.

My darkness reveled in it, fed and satisfied, already beginning to retreat, slipping back into its cage.

Sarah’s breathing is heavy, almost like a bull’s, and I can feel her silently begging for release.It’s one I would’ve given her long ago, if not for this thing growing inside me.Something I hate, something unfamiliar.I’ve never cared about anyone before.But for some reason, I want to keep the vow I made to Cami.So I finger fucked Sarah instead of using my cock.

Her sharp noises filled her play room, and she came beautiful.Sarah made orgasms look like art.

I wasn’t always like this.

At first, killing was enough to satisfy the darkness in me.But over time, it grew restless, like it was bored.It wanted more than just blood.It wantedeverything.

So I tried giving it what it wanted.

I even turned to coke and heroin, hoping to numb it, but that only made it worse.

Then one night, while I was enjoying the girls at the club, the urge hit me, stronger than ever.The need to cut her, to watch her bleed, it drowned out everything else.

Obviously, I didn’t act on it.But the more time I spent with someone, the stronger the urge grew.

Until one day, I gave in.And when I did, it was like pouring water on fire, calming, complete.A soothing burn put to rest.

I got banned from more clubs and bordellos than I can count.The girls said I was too rough, they couldn’t handle the blood.And the few whodidget off on it?Somehow, they always ended up in the hospital as my darkness didn’t like no.Didn’t like the word stop.

My father was furious.He didn’t understand any of it, and neither did my mother.

One night, a girl got seriously hurt, and for once, my better judgment kicked in.I rushed her to the hospital.

My father had to pay a small fortune to keep her from pressing charges.Lucky for me, she needed the money more than revenge.

That night was also when I met Sarah.She was the nurse on duty, and she recognized all the signs.